Chapter 42
42
ELENA
After heading to the supermarket last night, after work, to pick up the party provisions, Elena had spent most of the evening and this morning on the computer, researching, researching. Since lunch, she’d sat in the lounge, letting what she’d discovered about OCD sink in, and how it would effectively end any chance of romance with Rory, due to his theory about her promise twenty years ago.
But now it was time to party! Her guests would arrive in two hours. The light snowflakes that had fallen this week were coming down stronger, heavy, with purpose. She got up and headed into the kitchen, yawning, to fetch plates and cutlery to set up in the dining room. She’d hardly slept this last week. Elena took through the robin-print paper napkins and carefully shook out red and green table glitter. Mum and Dad had wanted to come round early to help once she’d let slip that Rory was ‘out’. But she didn’t want to risk an intense session of questions about her housemate. Elena set out nibble bowls on the breakfast bar in the kitchen, along with glasses, and went to get changed before making the Christmas punch. Yet she had to charge down again, having forgotten to light the pine candles to set the mood.
In just a few hours, it would be midnight.
None of the research had changed her mind about what would happen on her thirtieth birthday.
No matter. She was going to enjoy tonight. Now 21 December 2024 had finally arrived it was almost a… relief. Her fate was out of her hands. The moment of reckoning was here; no point fretting about avoiding it.
Elena luxuriated in the hot shower, the steamy water as soothing as a warm embrace. Maybe it was a goodbye hug. She shrugged. Half an hour later, she stood in the fancy red gown she’d worn for the early Christmas dinner with Tahoor, her blonde bob stylishly blown, make-up on. She looked skywards. Fuck destiny. She was going to go out in style, having one hell of a time.
The doorbell rang and she hurried downstairs. Elena pulled open the door and the appearance of Rory took her breath away. Coat open at the front, he wore a cranberry-coloured velvet suit, no shirt underneath, nothing but a silver necklace, sexy and naturally confident. He still had a key, could have still let himself in. But here he was, acting like a stranger. He came in, followed by Julian and a grey-haired man who had the same shaped nose as Rory, along with a middle-aged woman with a friendly face.
‘Happy Birthday, Elena – you’ve met Julian, and this is my dad, Mike, and his girlfriend Jenny.’
She shook their hands, exchanged pleasantries, good-naturedly telling them off for buying her presents. Rory shook everyone’s coats outside, due to the snow, before hanging them up. Elena suggested the three of them make themselves comfortable in the lounge. She’d bring in Christmas punch. Rory went after her .
‘How are you?’ he asked tentatively.
‘Still alive, as you can see,’ she said. Then she caught his eye and smiled. ‘I’m great. Looking forward to tonight. The pizza should arrive in an hour. Tahoor and I discussed which games would be best to play and?—’
‘I miss you,’ he blurted out. ‘I was a twat. I’m sorry.’
The doorbell rang again and she held up her hand. ‘I can’t do this, Rory. Not now. Let’s speak later. There’s something I want to say to you, anyway.’
Eight o’clock .
Rory busied himself pouring out punch. Mum and Dad arrived and shot her worried looks, but they slowly disappeared as Elena sang along to music and laughed at her dad’s jokes. She told them about the broken biscuit campaign and how excited she was for its launch in 2025. After catching up, they handed her an envelope, her Christmas present. A long weekend trip for two to…
‘Berlin?’ Elena looked up at her parents.
‘Now that you’ve started travelling, love, you’ve a fair bit of mileage to catch up on,’ said Dad.
‘You could take Rory, seeing as you both went to France… Or I’d love to come, for a gals’ trip,’ said her mum. ‘I’ve always wanted to see a burlesque show.’
‘This is too much! I don’t know what to say,’ said Elena with a stutter, imagining, for a second, a future, with no promise hanging over her.
‘Well, it is a big birthday,’ said her dad. ‘Can’t believe I’ve got a thirty-year-old daughter.’
Gayle and Tahoor arrived next, at the same time, and it wasn’t long before they were comfortably chatting about the snow and whether Manchester would have a white Christmas.
Half past eight .
Gary and Diego turned up late, a while after Caz and Derek and their respective partners. Diego, ever the perfectionist, had been finishing a selection of Spanish Christmas desserts – a walnut cream pudding, marzipan sweets, cinnamon festive cookies, churros and mini nougat bars, and a colourfully decorated brioche-like cake, sliced in half and filled with cream. Gary held a huge helium balloon with ‘30’ written on the side, and he handed Elena a Birthday Girl badge.
The pizza arrived on time, and over a large slice, Elena chatted to her guests, complimenting the wine Gary had brought, and pointing out to Tahoor that all of his samosas had gone.
Five to nine .
She listened to Caz and Derek’s Christmas plans and laughed with everyone else when Julian attempted to persuade them that stick insects made the perfect present – as long as they were cared for responsibly. Cue a chat about everyone’s pets over the years. Tahoor had apparently had a pet turtle as a child in Pakistan!
Ten fifteen .
This could be her last night. She should have been terrified at the prospect, curled up in a ball under the bed. But after all the upset, all the stress, she hadn’t got any tears left and she wouldn’t lose her last precious hours to pointless panicking. She got Mum and Dad talking about the eighties. She loved their stories about making mix tapes, JR from Dallas , and leg warmers.
Ten fifty-five .
Gary turned up the music and she danced with him, before swirling around the lounge with Tahoor to Frank Sinatra, and then gently she pulled Gayle to her feet once he’d collapsed on to the sofa, breathless. Holding hands, Gayle and Elena danced, like they used to when she was a little girl .
‘How’s everything going?’ asked Gayle over the music. ‘I got your text about Scotland. You said everything had been sorted.’
Elena gave her a thumbs up, but Gayle led her into the hallway.
‘We may have lost touch over the years, but I can still tell when you’re worried. Your voice gets a tad too bright and your shoulders droop when you think no one’s looking. Do you want to tell me about the fortune teller?’ asked Gayle.
Elena squeezed her hand back. ‘No. Not tonight. I really, really, just want to enjoy myself.’
Gayle paused. ‘Of course you do, love. But I’m always here if you need a chat. Or a slice of cake. Or even someone to read you a story.’
‘I’m sorry for backing off all these years.’ Elena’s voice sounded full.
Gayle placed her other hand over Elena’s. ‘Now, we’ve put that to rest, love. You and I are back in touch and I don’t intend on kicking the bucket for a few years yet.’
Eleven thirty .
Elena’s mum appeared and frowned. ‘Everything okay?’
Gayle looked from her to Elena. ‘Fine, Melanie. We were talking books.’
‘No change there, then,’ said Melanie, and her features softened. ‘Have you seen the snow? It’s falling even more heavily.’
They went into the dining room and looked out onto the back lawn. Elena loved how excited her mum got every winter, sounding like a small, rapt child if the white stuff settled. It was a couple of inches thick now. The three women returned to the hallway and Tahoor came out of the lounge, a twinkle in his eye.
‘A person could die of thirst in this place,’ he said. ‘How about a coffee? ’
‘I’m sure Elena can show you how to use the machine,’ said Gayle smoothly, eyes twinkling back.
Elena had overheard the two pensioners talking earlier, both sharing how difficult it was to get over a spouse’s passing.
Tahoor lowered his voice. ‘Truth is, my energy is lagging. Diego wants to show me some Flamenco moves, and Julian and Derek have been playing a party guessing game. I’ll need a large shot of caffeine if I’m going to join in.’
‘Tahoor!’ said Rory’s dad, Mike, striding into the hallway. He shook the old man’s hand. ‘We’ve hardly had a chance to chat. I’m still baffled by that missed goal that…’
Elena acted as if her eyes were glazing over, and her mum grinned. Elena looked into the distance and saw Rory talking to Caz and Derek, pointing out Brandy and Snap in the tank.
Gary boogied up to her. ‘There’s me thinking the best parties take place in the kitchen.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘Who’s up for a game of strip charades?’
Tahoor looked horrified and everyone laughed.
Elena consulted her watch.
Twenty minutes to midnight? Already?
She hadn’t even had time to talk privately to Rory. It was too late now.
‘I’m just going upstairs to freshen up,’ she murmured to her mum. ‘Do you mind starting up the coffee machine?’
She put her arms around Mel, not wanting to let go, thanking her again for the incredible present. Searched out Dad and spotted him in the lounge still, teaching Diego how to moonwalk. A lump formed in her throat as she waved at him. That’s exactly how she would want to remember her dad – if the worst happened in the next fifteen minutes. She wanted to go around the room and hug everyone tight. But she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. She began climbing the staircase; however, there was no chance of slinking off quietly with Gary around.
‘Elena Swan. Don’t disappear. We haven’t got long left to sing you Happy Birthday yet.’
‘No time like the present then,’ said her mum, and everyone stared up. Guests in the lounge piled into the hallway. Mike and Tahoor sang loudly, as if they were chanting at a football match. Gary swivelled his hips, giving the tune his best karaoke moves. Rory stared up at her, hardly mouthing the words. She stared back for a fleeting second.
I love you, Rory Bunker .
Raucous applause followed the last words of the song, and Derek insisted they give her three cheers. Elena gave a little bow and then headed into her bedroom, her heart full of gratitude for her kind, fun, wonderful family, friends and colleagues. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared out of the window, at the moon and stars, at the chunky snowflakes spinning down to the ground, counting off the minutes. Shouts drew her attention and she stood up. Below, to the left, where the cul-de-sac stretched, two teenage boys appeared, having bombarded the sentry boxes with snowballs. One skidded and fell over. They both doubled up with laughter. A tear trickled down Elena’s cheek and ended at her smiling mouth. Don’t ever lose that carefree spirit, lads. Don’t ever lose the ability to see humour in adversity . And if that voice in your head tells you you’re a bad person, a failure, ignore it. It’s not your friend . She sniffed, wiped her eyes and then, orderly as ever, in her head she went through the paperwork… She’d checked over her will a couple of weeks ago and paid all her bills in advance and…
It was ten to twelve. Elena shivered. She dropped to the bed and lay down. If anything was going to happen, it couldn’t be in front of her guests .
Be brave, Elena. Like you were twenty years ago. You’ve had a great life. Enjoyed more than so many people. Sure, you’ve had your challenges, but no one’s life is flawless .
Now that the deciding moment had come, Elena’s breathing slowed, her brow relaxed, satisfaction and thanks for the life she’d led running through her veins. Whatever would be, would be. She closed her eyes as the sound of ‘Last Christmas’ drifted upstairs.